Winter is Coming
by from russia with love47
Summary: "You will be our greatest weapon, Agent Carter, there is no use in disobedience now." When he inserted the syringe into a vein in her forearm, she didn't flinch. It was only when the russet colored liquid trickled through her bloodstream that it took absolutely everything not to scream. AU in which Peggy Carter is the Winter Soldier
1. Chapter 1

**Please note that upon reading this, I am not claiming that anything is historically accurate, or spot on with the comics or movie, this is simply fiction that I have manipulated for my own purposes. Constructive criticism is always welcome along with any beneficial details you think should be added.**

**I hope you enjoy the story, reviews are much appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of the Marvel Universe.**

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_May 14, 1948- New York City_

"_You don't have to hide out here." She jumped a little, a mixture of alcohol and sadness blurring her thoughts into a haze of nothingness. The sky was an odd blend of colors, deep indigo, leading into midnight blue, fusing into a silky ebony. Even the moon arrived in full force to say hello. The silver orb hung high, illuminating the dark night, the skyline paling in comparison. Below her were the ant-like people, living their lives in fast forward, whereas she was stuck in perpetual slow motion. She was not entirely sure which was worse._

"_I am not hiding, don't be preposterous." she spluttered, drink sloshing a little over the side of her finger-printed glass. She gripped it a little too tightly, like a lifeline, his dark eyebrows rose, appraising her still pin neat appearance._

"_Mmhm, your lipstick is smeared." _

"_What!?" her dark brown eyes widened with alarm, she struggled to pull out her small, gold mirror._

"_Relax, Peggy, I'm only joking. Trying to lighten the mood." _

_Eyes narrowing dangerously, she took what would be a threatening step toward him, the action was marred by her wavering stride. She was on a balcony for God's sake. _

"_How many of those have you had?" he asked, indicating the amber liquid._

"_Not nearly enough." she muttered, draining the rest of it in a single swallow._

"_Peggy.." he started._

"_Howard…" she interrupted in the same patronizing tone. _

"_I know how hard this has been on you the past couple of years, it's been hard on me too, I just don't think-"_

"_Think what?" the previous tipsy state she had displayed disappeared completely as her expression morphed into one of fury. "You needn't worry about me, Howard, I'm not one of your projects." she turned away from him then, not wanting him to see the angry tears that stung her eyes. Damn that last glass she'd had. _

"_I know, I'm sorry." he bowed his head a little, his usual smirk replaced with stoicism. "Come back inside, celebrate with everyone." she scoffed._

"_What possibly could there be to celebrate?"_

"_The life of an extraordinary man." she looked back at him, pleased to note that the tears were gone. He led her by the elbow back into the party, keeping a steady hand near her at all times. At the next break in conversation, he cleared his throat, raised his glass, and looked at Peggy._

"_To Steve." the room chorused his sentiment. There, in front of all those people, she did not want to appear weak, so she lifted her empty glass as well, and hid the pain that kept her alive, smiling fondly at the picture of the bravest man she'd ever known._

_~One Week Later~_

_A loud knock sounded on her office door, loud enough to where she knew it'd been done on purpose, so as not to startle her._

"_Got a mission for you, Carter." she glanced up like a scolded child...she'd been folding a paper airplane._

"_Well, it's about damn time." she hopped up, leaving no room for smart ass comments. Reaching for the file, Carter scanned it quickly, handing it back, she asked: "When do we leave?" Phillips made a big show of checking his watch._

"_Now." _

_On the jet, she was crammed between Dum Dum and Falsworth, though they were each trying their best not to make the situation uncomfortable, the plane kept jolting, and her head would knock against Dugan's meaty shoulder. Once, when she made awkward eye contact with him, he smiled in what she supposed was a friendly way._

"_Ever hear of a bikini, Agent Carter?" her mouth opened and closed a few times before she glared straight forward to see Phillips choking over his own laughter. _

"_Don't be creepy, Dum Dum." Falsworth suggested, scanning a dossier. _

_After a few hours of no more conversation, Stark's voice crackled in over the radio Peggy had clutched in her hand. _

"_Prepare for landing." they barely felt it; gliding across the ground smoothly and silently. "You all know what you have to do?" They nodded. "Good, Phillips and I will be nearby, we'll feed you directions over the radio. Wait until we give you the go ahead before you bust in, guns blazing." he eyed Peggy in a not so subtle fashion._

"_What are you looking at me for?"_

"_You're not exactly a perfect example of following orders." Phillips muttered. The others stared at her mock accusingly._

"_Unbelievable." she turned to arrange her weapons._

"_Well, to be candid, last time this happened it did say 3-5 agents recommended." Falsworth threw in._

"_And all it took was one." her lips curled and her eyes softened, Peggy jumped swiftly to the ground, treading across the muddy terrain. Dew still clung to blades of grass from the previous night's rain. "Let's go, ladies." _

"_Oh, not this again. Last time, she didn't stop calling me pansycake for weeks." Falsworth complained._

"_You deserved it for stopping to assist that pigeon in the park." Dugan rumbled._

"_What's wrong with that? Everyone likes a sensitive guy." Phillips said._

"_Coming, girls?" Peggy's voice drifted through the damp air._

"_Okay, we've got a lock on Zola, should be down that corridor. On your left." he informed her as she approached the door to the lab. _

"_Drop it!" she announced as she entered the cold, sterile room. The walls were lined with square metal doors, leading her to believe that the lab served a dual purpose. Something that looked suspiciously like a cage was built off to the sid in one corner of the room. From where she was standing, she could see the dark liquid staining the grey floor, she wasn't too keen to know what had happened there._

"_Ahh, Agent Carter, just in time for our little demonstration." the man strapped to the table barely glanced over, Zola raised the syringe, needle first, toward the ceiling as a sign of compliance. "But I believe you have underestimated HYDRA's intelligence." Something heavy hit her in the back of the head and her vision swam. The last thing she heard before she slipped away was grotesque pleading, a gunshot, and a chuckle. "I believe this will offer a more interesting test subject."_

_When she awoke, it was to chains binding her to a freezing slab of silver. Her vision was still fuzzy, but she could make out the portly little man in front of her just fine. Part of her white, linen shirt had been torn open, a handful of needles leading into her right arm. Her head was pounding, her mouth was dry, and she couldn't seem to get her bearings. _

"_I would imagine that your head hurts quite a bit, yes?" she didn't respond, locking her gaze on the pale ceiling instead. Something sharp jabbed her in the side, it took everything not to flinch, not to blink, not to feel. "You will answer me when I speak to you." She refused to move, barely breathing. "Understand?" Her jaw stayed clamped shut._

"_You will be our greatest weapon, Agent Carter, there is no use in disobedience now." When he inserted the syringe into a vein in her forearm, she didn't flinch. It was only when the russet colored liquid trickled through her bloodstream that it took absolutely everything not to scream. She could honestly say that she knew what it felt like to be burned at the stake. Surely that is what was happening. Surely her heart would stop any moment, too weak to handle the fire that raged throughout her entire body. But the traitorous thing continued to pump, sending blood out, taking it back in, she could feel the serum tangle with it, writhing it's way to her vulnerable heart._

_It didn't register with her when the door burst open and the symphony of machine guns sprayed bullets across the room. None of it mattered, Zola was already gone. Only the burly men that she had missed earlier remained, or their bodies at least. She couldn't feel it when the metal cuffs were unlatched, or when they tore the needles from her arm. Peggy was thrown over a wide shoulder, she wanted to tell them she was perfectly capable of walking on her own, but she was concerned about what might come out if she unlocked her jaw. She certainly didn't want to give away their position anymore by screaming bloody murder, no matter how badly it hurt. Closing her eyes, she struggled to stay conscious, afraid of what might happen if she allowed the bliss of sleep to settle over her._

_~Days later~_

_When her pale eyelids finally fluttered open, it was to see a battered looking Howard Stark, and dozens of flowers. The stale white sheets indicated a hospital. _

"_How are you feeling?" the shadows beneath his eyes gave away just how worried he'd been despite his light tone._

"_Like a million dollars, thank you." he chuckled and she graced him with a smile. It turned into a grimace soon after once the pain registered. The burning had stopped, no more liquid fire, she was beginning to feel as if that was a twisted nightmare, it had taken on the dimness of a distant dream. Despite that, the pulling in her side betrayed the stitches that held her together. Peggy felt like the ragged doll she'd had at home when she was a child. A hand-me-down, washed nearly to bits, the only thing keeping her from tearing completely were the neat little stitches all across her felt body. Her limbs were about as helpful as the doll's. "What did I miss?"_

"_Zola's in the wind, but we will find him. What's important is that you're feeling alright. The worst of your wounds seems to be whatever they did to your side. The flesh was pretty torn up, other than that, you've got some bruises, a few scratches. Dum Dum and Falsworth think they got to you before they started any kind of experiment, so I wouldn't wo-"_

"_Howard, you're rambling."_

"_Right," he chuckled again, mustache quirking up around his lips. "sorry, your head must already be hurting. Oh, speaking of that, it seems like you've got a mild concussion…"_

"_Howard! That's quite enough information, thank you." she snapped._

"_Well, i'll leave you to it, i'll be back later with a paper or something." her head killed, she really just needed him to shut up, but he looked kind of hurt. He got up to leave, she grabbed for his wrist._

"_Thank you." her eyes softened. "For staying." his eyes lit back up, and she knew that all was forgiven. No matter what, he never gave up on her._

"_Be back later."_

"_Alright."_

_Her dreams were dark that night, several times she found herself flinching awake, drenched in cold sweat, face burning, chest heaving. Eventually she fell into a fitful, but lasting sleep, when she came to, Howard was there._

"_Rise and shine."_

"_Mm, when can I leave this bloody hospital?" _

"_Nurse should be in any second to check your stitches, then we should be able to leave." Right on cue, a bird-like woman in her thirties entered the room. _

"_Agent Carter?" she asked, checking her paperwork._

"_That's correct."_

"_And this must be your…"_

"_Colleague." she stated at the same time Stark said: "Attractive friend." she rolled her eyes at him, he winked at the pretty nurse._

"_...right, well I'm just going to check on your stitches, and then a doctor will be in to look at your head. Mr. Stark, maybe you'd be more comfortable waiting outside…" the nurse hinted._

"_I'm quite alright in here, thank you." Peggy raised an eyebrow and he sighed heavily. He faced the bland, unappealing wall. "Compromise." The nurse pulled aside the dressing gown and her brow furrowed heavily._

"_Is there a problem?" Peggy asked._

"_...not anymore." Peggy gave her a look that told her to elaborate. "The wound is gone." Howard whipped around._

"_Mr. Stark, if you please!" Carter tossed out sharply, attempting to cover herself. He disregarded her statement, striding over to pull aside the fabric covering her side._

"_Holy-" _

_Where before there had been a mass of lacerated flesh, her side was entirely unblemished, the creamy skin almost translucent in the glaring light._

"_That's not possible." he commented, hands splayed around the useless stitches._

"_That's quite enough touching for today, Mr. Stark." she didn't even sound annoyed anymore, just tired._

"_But it completely goes against every-" _

"_Yes, I understand, you needn't spell it out for me." _

_After his pacing got to be too much for Peggy, Howard left to prep the jet for New York, so she simply laid back, propping her head on the wall behind her. Nurses came and went, removing the pointless stitches, cleaning the rest of the dried blood, and finally bringing her the spare outfit she'd packed in her duffel. _

"_Need any help dressing, ma'am?" one vaguely creepy male nurse had asked._

"_I'm perfectly capable, thank you." _

_Once back in New York, she got a final examination from SHIELD doctors, and they had affirmed that there were no traces of her concussion, everything came up entirely ordinary on the scans. Howard insisted upon running his own tests, which she'd flat out refused. Peggy was so tired of being poked and prodded at, she could barely remember what had happened in that room, let alone why she seemed incapable of retaining an injury. It was only a few weeks after they had returned that she began to notice physical changes. It wasn't that she'd gotten taller or gained muscle mass, it was more subtle, like being able to sprint for an extended period of time and not get winded. By the time she'd run a mile, the Howling Commandos had only done a quarter of that, or she'd grip her coffee mug too tightly and it would shatter, spraying everyone around her._

_Pacing her tiny flat, Peggy struggled to remember anything, the problem was that she could no longer sort out fact from fiction. Whenever she strained too hard, spots would appear in her vision, and she would sway from the effort of staying conscious. Tired of not doing anything, of not knowing, she grabbed a kitchen knife from the block they rested in, held it steadily in her right hand, and drew it across her left palm. The blade bit into the calloused skin, crimson seeped out, when she pulled the knife away and watched closely, the skin began to knit itself back together. Soon, all she was left with was a bloodstained knife, and a red smeared hand. That was when she'd called Howard._

_Stark's lab was enormous, when she had showed up, he'd led her into a quiet testing room, and closed the door. _

"_What was it that you needed to tell me?"_

"_I believe this is something you may want to see in action." his eyebrows drew together in confusion. She pulled a little tactical knife out of her jacket pocket and dragged it across her skin once more._

"_How-" he stopped mid-breath upon seeing the rough flesh heal itself, leaving baby soft skin in its place. "You should have come to me right away." her dark eyes flashed with guilt. "If you knew they had experimented on you-"_

"_I didn't!" she exploded. "By the time I'd woken up in that hospital, I wasn't even sure what had and hadn't happened!" he sighed heavily and rubbed his tired eyes._

"_Okay, just sit tight, I'm going to go look through Erskine's notes, it may have information about the formula that we need."_

"_Howard?" he turned back around to face her. "Don't say anything to anyone, alright? I don't wish to be experimented upon anymore than is necessary."_

"_Don't worry about it." she nodded gratefully and he exited the room._

_November 28, 1948- Siberia_

_Snow was falling in thick sheets to the ground, adding to the ivory that already blanketed the streets. Visibility was terrible, they'd had to recall their sniper because there was a greater chance of him accidentally shooting one of their own. Peggy led the Howling Commandos through the small, cement basement. Water dripped in the corners from leaking pipes, the whole place was rancid with mildew, the floor was covered in odd substances, one of which was a green slime that all of them had taken great care to avoid. The silence was absolute, there was no echo of footsteps, even walking through the puddles that had formed on the floor was done without noise. Approaching a vent, Peggy began to catch snippets of conversation from above._

"_**Any time now."**_

"_**It had better be, I am tired of waiting." **__Heavy footfalls sent dust raining down on their heads. _"_**Ah, so glad you could make it Herr Koch, Herr Kaufmann, we've been expecting you." **__A gunshot sounded, something heavy hit the floor, quickly followed by a second._

"_**Get rid of the bodies."**_ _a low, gravelly voice commanded._

"_There should be about ten of them in there, you have the go ahead." Stark radioed in. Peggy glanced at her boys and they nodded solemnly, Jones and Dernier grinned at each other excitedly. Silently, they climbed the stairs, once they had gathered around the entrance to the room, Peggy had given the signal. The door flew off its hinges with one solid kick, and the fight commenced. Dum Dum, Falsworth, Dernier, Jones, and Morita busied themselves with taking out the guards, the leader and his right hand man made a run for it. Typical. The door they'd come in through was now blocked by the battle taking place in front of it. That left the balcony. Honestly, it was absolutely frigid, what were they going to do, make an ice tunnel to the ground? _

_Launching a powerful kick at Kaufmann's face, she felt the delicate bones of his face crunch beneath her foot. He was down in seconds. That left her and Koch. Making his intentions clear right away, he aimed a sturdy pistol at her. She grabbed the gun just as he fired, deflecting the shot off the side of the balcony. That was when she'd noticed that the rail was less than substantial. A shot from inside, and a cry of pain that sounded horribly like Jones, was all that it took to grab her attention. That split second costed her life. Carter's legs were swept out from under her, grasping for a handhold as she slipped off the balcony, her breathing slowed, and her nose connected with the cold stone below her. Hands just barely clinging to the edge of the balcony, she dared not look down. Another gunshot and Koch was dead, no longer clawing at her hands. Fingertips gripping the platform for dear life, Falsworth had just reached out his hand for her when they let go. She didn't even have the wits about her to scream. _

_The river was bitterly, piercingly, freezing. Any oxygen that may have stayed in her lungs was entirely gone the second she hit the water. It only took a second for her to die. The darkness encroached much faster than she'd ever imagined it would. But it was okay. She was warm, she was safe, nothing could hurt her now. _

"Peggy."

"Steve?" _his cyan blue eyes appeared first, followed by his neatly combed straw hued hair. _"Where am I?" _Where am I? Where am I? Where am I? Several hours of this mantra passed before the question changed._

"_Agent Carter, you will be the new fist of HYDRA."_

_Who am I?_


	2. Chapter 2

**January of 2014**

"Are you sure you want to do this, Rogers? I've read these files before, they aren't pretty."

"Thank you, sir, but I have to." Fury nodded, handing the files over. Back at his apartment, Steve dwarfed his rickety wooden desk, poring over the lives of his former friends. All deceased. When he finally brought himself to open it, he found that Bucky was still listed as MIA. His gut wrenched, though he had realized the probability of it. Giving himself a moment to steady his breathing, Steve pushed his blond hair from his pained eyes, and reached for the file he'd been dreading the most. Steve hoped beyond anything that she'd had a long life, lived happily, married, maybe even had a few kids, but he knew that the life of a soldier was never that easy.

**MARGARET "PEGGY" CARTER**

**MIA**

He was hard-pressed to contain selfish, angry tears. Steve knew that they'd never had a chance. Even if she was alive somewhere, she was at least 95. Though he knew it was quixotic, Steve's heart had stuttered when he read that she wasn't dead. A ridiculous spark of hope had flickered somewhere in his chest. Steve read on.

**Margaret "Peggy" Carter disappeared whilst on a mission with the Howling Commandos in Siberia, falling from a balcony several stories in the air, most likely to her death. No body was recovered.**

He shut the folder, it read too much like Bucky's file. Almost like a news report rather than a military document. Steve wasn't needed until further notice, it was getting late anyway, he rubbed his tired eyes, as if he could ward off the guilt and sadness that were eating him alive. Steve undid the buckle of his belt and pulled his jeans off in one fluid motion. His button down shirt was next. Pulling on his SSR shirt, Steve collapsed onto his undersized bed. It was still too pliable, as if he had curled up on one of Stark's fancy water beds. When he woke from a fitful sleep, it was in a cold sweat. He stretched his muscles slowly, trying to rid himself of the dull ache in his chest that came every morning to haunt him.

**April of 2014**

As he had nearly every day since he'd transferred to D.C., Steve pushed himself off of his rickety bed, stretched and pulled on running gear. One particular day, Steve felt the unfamiliar rush of hope, though he couldn't quite place why. He sprinted faster, enjoying the burning of the blood pumping through his veins, his muscles working. Once he had caught sight of the guy he'd been looking for, Steve couldn't help the mischievous grin that spread across his face.

"Don't say it!"

"On your left!"

"Come on, man!" Steve laughed, he was already halfway across the other stretch of concrete. Bounding like an over energetic puppy rather than the world's greatest soldier, Steve felt the incredible rush of spring air, only pausing to chat with his new running buddy. Sam Wilson had a distinctly Bucky-ish way about him. He was a soldier, hardened and experienced in pain, but he seemed to have a permanent grin spread wide across his face, like the Cheshire Cat. They talked for the few minutes Steve had to spare, before the black car sped up to the curb.

"Either of you boys know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil." Steve shook his head, smiling lazily.

One stressful mission later, Steve was found taking a respite at the Smithsonian, Steve went unnoticed, lightly running his fingers over the pictures of Bucky and Peggy under the Fallen Heroes board. It would've been a funny parallel...if anyone dared say a word about it to him, which, thankfully, they didn't. He was afraid of what might happen to the person disrespectful enough to ask. Gathering up the courage to approach the film room for the first time, he took a seat where he could go unseen.

"_The first thing that struck me about Steve wasn't just how small he was, but his courage as well. He had a very big heart, that much was obvious. Through his weeks at Lehigh, he continued to surprise me. Not only was he the smallest, he was also the worst at every activity you could imagine. I thought they were going to eat him alive." _Peggy shook her head, chuckling a bit. "_He outwitted them all, even before his transformation. The most shocked I've ever been was when a grenade was thrown into a group of recruits, and the only one willing to jump on it besides myself...was Steve. He was yelling, 'Get back!' to this pile of men that were absolutely horrible to him. For someone who had never been taken seriously in his lifetime, he handled the changes quite brilliantly. He was kind, he was intelligent, he didn't deserve his ending. Steven Rogers deserved to live a long, happy life more than any person I have ever met." _

Steve was already out the door.

Steve allowed days to pass before he thought about _her _ending. Cold and alone is how she must've died. She deserved the happiest ending of anyone. Closing his eyes, he pictured how life might've been. They both would've had jobs. He wouldn't have been able to stand being immobile during the Cold War, and she would never have spent all day at home, she'd be bored out of her mind. She would direct SHIELD with Howard and Phillips. The wedding would be small, quaint, and intimate. If everything had turned out perfectly, Bucky would be his best man, the Howling Commandos standing side by side at the altar. Phillips would walk Peggy down the aisle, and Howard would be her maid of honor. Steve smiled at that thought. The white dress would stand out against her dark hair, the midday sun illuminating her soft skin, paling in comparison to her smile. Her eyes would swim with love, the look she reserved for him in that car before he'd condemned himself to death. Her lips, of course, would be painted a brilliant red. Everyone would laugh when it rubbed off on his lips.

Their daughter would have her hair and his eyes. She'd be beautiful and strong, just like her mother. Eleanor Sarah Rogers. Ellie for short. Their son would have his mother's eyes and his father's hair. He'd be a gentle soul, opting for a paint brush rather than the toy sword his older sister liked to swing around, he would never back down from a fight though. James Harrison Rogers. Jem for short. They'd have a dog, named something decent, but Peggy would start calling him something ridiculous like Liberty, and then he wouldn't respond to anything else. Steve wanted this life. More than anything he'd ever wanted. He wanted to come home to Peggy's gentle smile, his children's cries of, 'Daddy!', the bark of a dog he'd never get. And years later, when he'd be resting next to Peggy on their front porch, surrounded by grandbabies, with the shield propped up in some corner, his days as the star spangled man all but a distant memory.

He bit back the sharp surge of pain and parked his motorcycle outside his apartment building. He even made an effort to chat with the cute nurse from down the hall. Steve was charming, even offering a coffee date. He was numb, eager to escape the pain by any means necessary. She was polite. There was something about the eyes that seemed familiar. He shook it off, forgetting about it as the next words escaped her mouth.

"Oh, by the way, I think you left your stereo on." Bringing his focus back, he could finally hear the soft music floating through the crack under the door.

"Right."

The dark apartment seemed to be crawling with threats. Each shadow a villain waiting to be destroyed. Silently, he picked up his shield and crept down the hallway. When he flipped on the light it was a pleasant relief that washed over him. Then he noticed the blood. Not much, but enough to alert him that something was wrong. Blood that would only multiply moments later. So much blood. Pooling on the floor, on his hands, all over Fury. The remaining eye closed. Rogers was already in pursuit. With Hulk-like anger, he smashed through windows, doors, and walls, anything to stop this newfound source of danger.

On the roof, the strangest thing happened, the enemy _stopped _his shield. No one had ever been able to do that. He only saw the figure long enough to determine that it was a woman. In the set of the part of her face that he could see, the long, flowing brown hair. The build: athletic, tall, but curvaceous. The metal arm was also clear. He could just make out the bright red star staining the gleaming silver. Soviet.

A while later, he saw Fury die. First Coulson, then Fury, the SHIELD he'd been introduced to was rapidly changing. If he hadn't know better, he'd say Natasha was crying. She would never have been shameless enough to let him see that. Though she did look genuinely scared when he cornered her in the room down the hall. For once, she actually gave him useful information.

"I know who killed Fury," she paused, hesitant, he stared her down. "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe she exists. The ones that do call her The Winter Soldier. She's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years."

"So she's a ghost story."

_The Winter Soldier was a ghost, but never was she just a story. The Winter Soldier tore apart a car just to kill him, she would stop at nothing to see his blood spilt. It wasn't bloodlust exactly. More like an urge to see the mission fulfilled. To do well, to please her superiors so they wouldn't bring the machine out again. The one that made her head feel like it was going to explode. As if whatever might be there was drained, leaving her head empty of everything but her mission. It wasn't as easy to kill him as it was her other targets. He and his teammates were elusive. The dark man did not matter to her, he would be dead soon enough. The red haired woman was clever. The Winter Soldier admired her perseverance. But not enough to stop her from shooting through the other woman's shoulder. Something knocked her death blow aside and she turned to find the blue eyed man with the shield blocking her path. She struck out with the silver arm. When it connected with the shield she could feel the vibrations all the way up to the flesh shoulder._

_Hoping to tire him, she sent blow after blow. He wouldn't give up. Fragments of a conversation swam into her mind. Did he have something against running away? Growing bored of this childish game, she pulled a lithe little knife and swung her arm out, hoping to catch him in the neck. The man was no more bothered by a weapon than her fists. She swung an arm at his face, changing direction at the last second, she caught him in the stomach, staggering him. Her leg flashed forward, knocking him off his feet. He rolled back up faster than she could plan another hit. Her left arm was still out of sorts from the red woman shorting it out, so she decided to take out his advantage as well. The shield buried itself deep in the van nearest them. They struggled for the knife. _

_She had finally met her match. He was every bit as strong, every bit as fast. He seemed to anticipate which moves she was going to use before she did. Then the oddest thought occurred to her. She had trained him. There was no other explanation. The sudden thought slowed her down and he landed a heavy blow, sending her skidding across the pavement. Mouth bloodied, the mask fell to the asphalt below. The man's blue eyes widened. He didn't seem to be looking quite at her anymore._

"_Peggy?" he spoke as if haunted. _He looking into cold eyes. Eyes that did not know him.

"_Who the bloody hell is Peggy?" _


	3. Chapter 3

"Why'd you stop, Cap?" Natasha asked, hand pressed to her shoulder. Wherever Agent Hill was taking them, they seemed to be getting close. Hill's jaw tightened, her eyes steeled, she was preparing for something.

"What do you mean?" Steve's face was still contorted into an expression of pain. Not from any physical injuries, he was Captain America for God's sake; it was something else.

"Don't play dumb, Rogers." she winced, holding tighter to the open wound.

"I'm not pl-"

"On the bridge. You had her on the ropes. Why'd you stop? Too gentlemanly to hit a girl?"

"That's not it." he responded.

"C'mon, Steve. I saw your face. Even now. Looks like you've seen a ghost."

"I have." he cut in swiftly, shifting his shield to his back. Natasha looked taken aback, she hadn't anticipated such bluntness.

"I don't und-"

"Drop it, Natasha." he snapped, effectively cutting off her sentence. Sam looked uncomfortable, Hill's face didn't shift, though she recognized the awkwardness of the situation. She chose not to involve herself. Natasha's face turned cold, still as stone. He immediately felt bad.

"Look, I'm-"

"Don't apologize." her tone is as icy as her expression.

"I wasn't going to apologize." he scoffed.

"Right, so that guilty look on your face was so you could tell me you like my shoes." Just like that, they've made up. The haunted look is still etched into his eyes though.

"If you two are finished with-whatever that was, we've arrived." There's nothing there. Sam leaned in uncomfortably close to Steve and attempted a whisper.

"Has she lost her mind?" Hill heard and smiled, unamused.

"Welcome to SHIELD, Mr. Wilson." she said coolly as the entrance to the facility reveals itself.

"Did anyone else find that hot?." he muttered. Natasha and Steve shot him warning glances. "What?" They walked off without him. He continued to look baffled. The underground building was dank, as if they hadn't had enough time to properly fix it up. It resembled the unfinished basement of an old house.

Before they go behind the curtain, Hill blocked the entrance, and locked eyes with Natasha.

"Before you go in there...just try to stay calm." Natasha looked puzzled, Hill moved the curtain aside. She was no longer confused, but Steve recognized the face she made. That was her detachment face. She was removing herself from the situation, making herself invulnerable.

"Hello, Nick."

"Agent Romanoff, glad you made it here alive."

"Can't say the same." her mouth twitched with a held back smile.

"That hurts me. Almost more than the fractured spine." he pretended to dab under his eye patch, Steve wondered what kind of narcotics they'd been giving him.

Once the doctor cleaned up Natasha, and cleared Fury to leave his bed, they crowd at a small table.

"Cap, I hate to bring up bad topics, especially after that awkward situation earlier...but I think it's important to know why you hesitated." Sam stated rationally after a minute of deafening silence.

"That woman, The Winter Soldier, I knew her."

"No offense, Rogers, but you've only been awake about three years, she can't be that important." Steve's sorrowful expression almost made Natasha want to take the words back.

"No. I _knew _her. That woman you saw on the wall at Lehigh, her name is Peggy Carter."

"_The _Peggy Carter?" Fury asked. Steve nodded. "She's a legend. She scared most of the recruits shitless. The ones dumb enough not to be right away learned quick enough." he chuckled. "Damn shame when she went missing." Steve nodded again, unable to do much else. "As much as I admired that woman, she's HYDRA now." Steve's head snapped up.

"There's no way she would join HYDRA willingly. They've gotta be controlling her somehow."

"Whether by force or by choice, ROgers, it doesn't matter. The woman you loved was gone." Steve's eyes hardened.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"That is not acceptable. If I know her at all, she's fighting like hell to get out, and it's time someone helped her. Whether you're with me or against me, I don't give a damn, I'm getting her back."

"I know that waking up here was hard for you, but it's time you moved on. She was one hell of a woman, I'll give you that, but what makes her worth your life?"

"There is no past tense with Peggy Carter. The word 'loved' does not apply here." Steve let that resonate.

"Though your plan sounds like a great one to get us all killed…I've got your back, Cap." Steve clapped Sam on the back. They looked at Natasha expectantly. She raised a red eyebrow.

"I could use your experience." Steve admitted bashfully. Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Whatever, I'm in." Steve shook off his surprise quicker than she'd expected. "Just know that this is not going to be easy. Any lost love isn't strong enough to overpower mind control, no matter what fairy tales would have you believe." Fury had enough.

"Okay, back to reality for a second. Rogers, I'll give you $10 if you can bring her back, but until that miracle occurs, we are going to assume that she is HYDRA, and will carry out our mission accordingly. Now, if she has Romanoff or Wilson on the ropes, can you kill her to save them?" Steve hesitated. "I didn't think so."

"Sir, I-"

"I wasn't finished," Fury's good eye silenced him. "A team of mine called FitzSimmons-"

"FitzSimmons? What kind of a name is Fit-" Natasha scoffed, but cut herself off when Fury's eye trained on her. "...sorry."

"As I was saying, FitzSimmons developed this," Fury held up an odd looking gun. "called the Night Night gun."

"Night Night?"

"Agent Romanoff, are you entirely incapable of restraining yourself?" she raised an eyebrow and motioned for him to continue.

"As I was saying, again, the Night Night gun is a powerful tranq gun. Usually it only takes one to make an enemy go night night, but with HYDRA technology, I would be quite generous with your ammunition." Steve nodded, accepting the gun. "Don't mention it." Fury added, anticipating Steve's next words.

_The Winter Soldier sat as the doctors poked and prodded at her. She knocked one across the room when he made something hurt. Accident or not, she did not tolerate being harmed. The rest of them seemed nervous. Good. She went back to thinking about the man on the bridge. She recognized him. The way his eyes held a sadness that seemed to speak more than anything that could possibly come out of his mouth. It was familiar. A devastated bar came to mind. She shook her head. She had never been there. It must leave her mind at once._

_But it stayed. The man sits on a chair at a table amidst the rubble. The sadness is there. The word 'alone' swam to the forefront of her mind, and the overwhelming feeling that he shouldn't be. Her head was pounding, scattering the image of the bar, it took on a hazy quality. Her boss entered the room. _

"_That man on the bridge, who was he?" she asked before he could ask her his usual question._

"_Mission report." he demanded anyway._

"_That man, I knew him." he sighed._

"_You met him earlier this week. Mission report."_

"_No, I knew him." she didn't see the hand that flashed forward, connecting with her face. She tuned out while he barked something at the doctors. Willingly, she accepted the tray they push into her mouth. As the table reclined back, the metal cage clamping onto her head, she frantically tried to recall the man's name, but all that came to mind are the words:_

_you_

_won't_

_be _

_alone_

_And then they too are seared from her conscience. _


End file.
